Our director of accounting’s ringtone is currently “Call Me Maybe.”
My swirling wants. Your frozen lips.
The grammar turned and attacked me.
Themes, written under duress.
Emptiness of the notations.
They gave me a drug that slowed the healing of wounds.
I want you to see this before I leave:
the experience of repetition as death
the failure of criticism to locate the pain
the poster in the bus that said:
my bleeding is under control
A red plant in a cemetery of plastic wreaths.
A last attempt: the language is a dialect called metaphor.
These images go unglossed: hair, glacier, flashlight.
When I think of a landscape I am thinking of a time.
When I talk of taking a trip I mean forever.
I could say: those mountains have a meaning
but further than that I could not say.
To do something very common, in my own way.
I am currently writing my student assistant a letter of recommendation for a scholarship. Since when am I responsible enough to recommend someone for something? I currently have a bruise on my forehead because I hit my head while reaching back into my car to get my coffee this morning—after I had to stop at Dunkin Donuts for coffee and a bagel because I dropped my original bagel in parking lot behind my house. I should not have the authority to vouch for someone’s responsibility! Yikes.
Lock the nursing professors who study “health care chaplaincy” and health care in “faith-based settings” in a room with the evolutionary biologists and see what happens.
Oh, hi, tumblr. How are you? I can’t do any work!
blace replied to your chat: It’s been one of those weeks. Is it happy hour yet?
So what’s the answer? Can she?….bring me a captain and ginger ale…..? Serious question.
Sadly, she’s not 21, so no. But 4:30 will bring many, many margaritas.